Years ago, while visiting Israel, a rabbi came to speak to the small group I was travelling with. I recall very little from the lengthy monologue except for one thing. A single truth that echoes back to me in times I struggle to reconcile life, and the movement of God in it.

In Hebrew, the rabbi told us, there is an intriguing linguistic connection between the name *Esther* (אֶסְתֵּר) and the word *hester* (הֶסְתֵּר), which means “hidden” or “concealment.” This connection is often noted in rabbinic and scholarly interpretations of the Book of Esther.

The clever linguistic link underscores the theme of hiddenness of God in story. Although God is not explicitly mentioned in the Book of Esther, God’s presence is seen as concealed within the events that unfold, suggesting that divine providence works in hidden ways.

Rabbinic tradition also draws from the verse in Deuteronomy 31:18: “And I will surely hide (הַסְתֵּר אַסְתִּיר) My face…” The phrase *hester panim* (הֶסְתֵּר פָּנִים) in Hebrew means “the hiding of the face” or “concealment of the face.” It refers to the concept in Jewish theology where God’s presence or favour is hidden or not immediately perceivable in the world.

There is a tendency in the rational Western mind, especially in times of uncertainty, to forget that faith requires us to look beyond what we can see, perceive and easily attribute to divine presence or providence. If we claim to be ‘spiritual’ people, we are to become people who are sleuths, poets, and mystics – those not just willing, but bent on searching for the hidden face of God, in all things.

I ate the table of hyper-spiritual Christianity for a good decade of my life. By that I mean, I lived and worked with those who saw God’s hand at work in the world but tended to mainly focus on demons and dark forces behind every inconvenience, opposing opinion, and trauma. I am not denying these evil forces exist, but I can say that the more attention that was given to finding the hidden faces of trouble, the more it consumed the seeker, often to the point of paranoia. Eventually, I found being around those who ‘lived by fear and not by sight’ was tiring and not great for my mental health.

But, great solace came when I found various folks genuinely looking for the ‘hester panim’ – the hidden face of God.

These folks are less common, and often, less popular. I think this is because looking for God’s hidden face requires and element of wildness and abandoned effort. Indeed, greater effort than looking for evil and darkness. Looking for God’s hidden face requires us to honestly live by faith, and not by sight – which is very counter-cultural; even among well-meaning Christians today. Why? Because we are invited to look for a loving God in places we might otherwise hate to consider: our enemies, hard-times, disasters, disappointing relationships, religions (of all kinds), traumatic circumstances, new relationships, loss, loneliness, big emotions, and even death.

It is occurring to me that this hide-and-seek game with God gets harder over time. You never really win or master it. God, it seems, gets better at hiding and instead of spending a few hours, days, or weeks looking, things take years. And because we often trek so far into the unknown – we can find ourselves constantly disoriented and lost. We feel like the only thing worth doing is to keep searching because, after all, if we turn around we have nothing to return too. Even if we could back-track, those who witnessed our leaving would likely chalk our disappearance up to recklessness and stupidity; reminding us that it’s safer stay with the tribe and to ignore the deep longing pulling you back into the wild.

Thankfully, the bounties we are searching for increase over time. When you encounter the Hidden Face, you realise, as the rabbi reminded us, God’s always hiding deep inside you. This kind of ‘over investment of God’ in us all IS the bounty. It is the boon. This treasure is perhaps what St Paul was referring to as the hope of glory, Christ in us, the glorious mysterious riches (Col 1:27).

The catch with this spiritual game, this lover’s pursuit, this deep longing, is that it sucks you in. It tricks you. It arrests you. It calls for you like a muse, like a Siren, like a lost treasure. Even writing of it now, stalls my breath and causes my hands to tremor. It is all an all consuming fire.

Poets write of it in their ecstatic stanzas.

Singers chant of it in their unrequited love songs.

Prophets of all faiths wrestle with it. Like Jeremiah, we troubled seekers know what it is like to not want to mention God’s name, whilst simultaneously confessing “His word was in my heart as a burning fire shut up in my bones; and I was weary with forbearing, and I could not hold back.” (Jer 20:9).

I would love to tell you that this journey into the unknown is not a lonely one. But it can be. I’d also like to say that there are many churches and spiritual communities that have maps, programs, frameworks and shortcuts to finding these hidden faces quickly. But that would be lie, and you’ve had that already, right? You ticked all those boxes. You recited those promises. You paid your dues. You played that game for as long as it worked. But it’s not working anymore is it?

By all means, you could go back to the tribe and settle back into the communities and programs you left – and sometimes returning for a season is a good reminder to why you left; but you’re not a settler, are you?
You are a seeker.
A pioneer.
A misfit.
A spiritual rebel.
A trouble-maker.
A treasure-seeker.
A lovesick provocateur.

And the world needs you to keep going.

So go. Without excuse, rhyme, or reason.

Treasures, mirrors, and adventure await you.

God is looking to be found.